


Visiting Harry

by bilboswaggins



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Dead Harry, Grieving Eggsy, M/M, Post canon, Spoilers, Teen for lots of language, and one sexual reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 04:49:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3882922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bilboswaggins/pseuds/bilboswaggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You were always a little fuckin shit. Remember at the Black Prince when ya picked me up? You fuckin started that shit. You poked ‘em on purpose because you wanted t’fight. I think Merlin agrees with me, though he hasn’t come out and said it or anythin. ‘s how I remember you. A show off little shit disguised with manners.<br/>---<br/>Post Canon. Eggsy visit's Harry's very real grave and has a one-way talk with him. Inspired by the song Fourth of July by Fall Out Boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Visiting Harry

Hey, Harry.

It’s been awhile since I come by, hasn’t it? Almost… Fuck, two months now. I guess I missed Christmas. But that’s not really a big deal, I don’t think. Thought aboutya, and that’s what’s important, innit? Not like you’re gonna know the difference, eh? Still. I felt kinda bad. But I bought myself a gift in your honor. Bond Number Nine cologne. Figures your cologne would be a fucking pun. But sure smells nice, even if it is almost 120 pounds. And for only three ounces, bruv. No wonder the old one you had ran out pretty quick. Guess it was my fault though, eh? I did keep usin’ it. So thanks, I guess, even though I bought it with my money, I’m thinkin it’s from you. ‘s why I bought it in the first place. But that’s fucking sad and not why I came.

If you saw me now, you’d be right pissed off, I think. Sittin on the ground in the fuckin dirt with my nice tailored trousers. I can almost picture it. Your annoyed glare and ‘No, Eggsy.’ … Been a long time since I heard that. I’m hearin a lot of ‘Well done, Eggsy,’ and ‘Good work, Eggsy.’ ‘s nice, really, it is. Merl’s been takin pretty good watch on me. ‘s not the same, obviously, but he really has been helping a lot. Even gave me one’a your pictures when you first joined up. You looked so little, Harry, with your fluffy hair an’ innocent lookin face. Apparently you were a little shit back then. Rox had trouble believin it, but I guess she just didn’t know ya enough. You were always a little fuckin shit. Remember at the Black Prince when ya picked me up? You fuckin started that shit. You poked ‘em on purpose because you wanted t’fight. I think Merlin agrees with me, though he hasn’t come out and said it or anythin. ‘s how I remember you. A show off little shit disguised with manners. And yeah, I know you was a show off. Fuckin showed off to me much as you could. But I loved it. Wish I could have some footage… Think Merl’s got it on lock down. He says it’s ‘cause it’s ‘classified’ and I ain’t got the ‘clearance’ for it, but it might just be t’baby me. An much as I hate him for it, I get it. Think he knows how much I’d play those tapes…

… Anyway. I didn’t come t’sound pathetic an all. But I guess that’s where it’ll be, yeah? ‘m gonna change the subject and it’ll come back t’me being pathetic all over again. But I gotta try at least.

Everything’s been goin real well. Mum ‘n Dais ‘n I been livin in your old house still, we didn’t sell it like we thought about. I thought it’d be nice for us t’have a nice place for once. Nice place in a nice part of town where Dais can go to a good school and mum can get a job and we can fuckin recover. Dean ain’t been back, not since I fucked him up. Got the new Arthur to pull some strings and he’s in the prison three hours away from us. Thanks for the recordins, Har. Cause’a them he’s not gonna be getting out anytime soon, so mum feels fine actually filin the divorce papers. ‘s been in the works for a few weeks now, should be done with by next Christmas actually. It’s just the three of us now, but that’s fine. Mum’s a lot happier now. She actually is getting put together again. Don’t mean that meanly, of course, but she’s looking better, like she did when I was real little and Dad was still here. Think she’s takin well to the posh house, which is why I convinced her to let us keep it. Besides, Kingsman pays me enough to let us, so why not?

Kingsman pays me an awful lot, actually. Mosta your money went there, and mosta your stuff went t’me, so I owe you a lot. Thanks for the paycheck, Har. Guess you did buy me that cologne, huh? Have a lot of money I don’t really know what t’do with. I threw a lot of it right back at Kingsman. Bought meself another 8 suits. Can you believe that? I own fuckin 8 bespoke suits. Me. Well, 9. Mine plus the one you got for me. I don’t wear that one much, though. Just for the really dangerous ones where I need an extra bit of luck. Nicked one of your ties for it too, since Gazelle fuckin wrecked mine. It mostly hangs up in the closet.

I’m officially Galahad. Like I told ya last time I guess. But I hate it. Hate bein’ called it. I keep waitin for you to come back and smack me for takin your name. It ain’t really mine. Feels like I’m just borrowin it. I would have thought after a fucking year that’d go away, you know? You been dead for almost a fuckin year. A year next week. And I’m still fucking waiting for you to show back up like nothing happened. Like you were in a damn coma this whole time or some shit. But ‘this ain’t that kinda movie’ an all. It don’t work like that. I saw them bring back your body, lower you into this fucking hole in the ground. It was really you. You’re not comin back. You ain’t comin to smack me or… Or anything else. … Christ Harry, I fucking--- … I fucking **_miss you_**. So fucking badly. After a year I thought it may hurt less but it fucking doesn’t. It might be worse. I’m having trouble remembering things about you now. That’s the last thing I want. What’s gonna happen the day I can’t think of your voice anymore? Fucking Christ…

I can’t do it anymore, Har. I been keepin it in for so long. I don’t know why I haven’t told you anythin before, not like you can FUCKING HEAR ME. You’re in the fucking ground and I can’t fucking tell you. But fuck that. It’s almost Valentine’s Day again, innit? I can make a confession, can’t I? It’s been eating at me over a year… It don’t fucking matter.

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of it. I dream about the last time I saw you all the time. I said some things. I hurt you on purpose. I threw me dad’s death in your fucking face. Harry I’m so sorry. I was angry, I was hurt, I was fuckin scared… And I was holdin back. I almost told you that day, y’know. You were just so angry and disappointed in me I couldn’t force it out… My dreams always end with you leavin and me standin there wishing so much that I had said it to your face. Guess your bleedin headstone is a far off second place.

I love you. I _still_ love you. I’ve always loved you, in a way. I remember the posh fucker who came t’mum and my apartment and gave me a medal and told me t’take care of it and take care of my mum. I actually admired you, bearer of bad news though you were. I did so well in school and tried so hard at gymnastics and the marines, I wanted to make that stranger proud of me. I wanted t’make my dad proud of me, too. But after Dean… I sorta forgot all that for awhile. Till you showed up and got me and reminded me who I was and what I was supposed t’be doin. Reminded me that people can surprise you.

And then you had to go and kick arse and show me this world and praise me for how good I did and make me fucking fall in love with you. Why the fuck did you do that. You dyin would never have been easy but if you hadn’t made me love you it woulda been at least easier. Maybe I’d not be such a fucking wreck right now. And I am, Harry, I’m a fucking mess. I don’t leave the house cept for missions or meetings or Kingsman shit mostly. I tried to take myself out now and then. Did myself up all nice a few times and went t’ nice places and all. Even tried t’get laid. Had t’back out of the bird I was chatting up because I knew I wouldn’t be able t’do it. When I caught myself flirting with an older bloke with some grey hair and a suit I knew I was fucked. I haven’t been out much since then. I do fine on missions when I need t’flirt or whatever, I’m good at my job enough for that. But I haven’t done anything since Tilde. And I felt fucking guilty about it afterwards. I felt fucking guilty about havin sex with a princess after I’d saved the fucking world. Because of you. It felt… wrong. Like you’d somehow fucking care. Like you’d care if you were fucking alive, anyway. You’d probably just lecture me about how ‘a gentleman does not have anal sex with princesses’ or some shit and not give a damn.

But that’s actually the fucking worst. I don’t fucking know. I DON’T know how you actually felt about anythin. I’m not stupid, I saw how you looked at me sometimes. But I don’t trust my memories and Merlin won’t fucking let me at any of your tapes. Were you looking at me like that because you were just the proud mentor or … God. I wish I knew how much you loved me. You had to, right? But… Did you **_love_** me? It fucking kills me that I can’t answer that. You’re my fucking ‘what if.’ You’re my ‘I’ll never know.’ God DAMN it. You know why I bought that cologne? Not to wear. Sometimes when I really fucking miss you, I’ll spray it on a shirt of yours or something and bury my face in it when I sleep. That’s the place you left me in, you fucking dickhead. It’s been a year and I bought a new bottle of the stuff to keep doing that. I still fucking do it. It’s all I’ve got now. You fucking left me here and I can’t have video of you and you never took pictures so all I’ve got is your fucking cologne. At least I remember what you smell like. So I guess it’s my fault I dream about you so much, eh? Usually the nightmare I told you about, or the footage from the church, but sometimes… Sometimes I’ll dream about you bein here with me. Lyin in a bed with you and just talkin or watchin telly or fucking resting my head on your chest while you read. Fucking domestic shit. And you smile at me and kiss my forehead  and rub my back and say my name in that fond fucking voice of yours and I wake up. I wake up and you’re not there. Christ… And it’s so fucking sad how I never want those dreams to stop. It’s not real; it’s a shadow of you, the best shadow of you that my mind can come up with but still not you. And it’ll never be you. But even a copy of a copy of a copy is better than letting you go. I’d be so much better off if I could. If I could let you go, I could fucking move on with my life, maybe get a girlfriend or somethin fucking normal, leave the house, fucking smile, but I can’t. I’d rather be miserable with you than forget you. And that’s so unhealthy and masochistic that you’d lecture me for it if you were here.

Kingsman is a weird dichotomy now. I throw myself into it headfirst constantly, but it hurts. Bein Galahad, bein in those rooms without you and feelin you like you were just out of reach but I turn and you’re not fucking there. It aches every time. Merlin and Roxy have stopped tryin’ to pull me out. I almost feel bad about that, too. Like I’m disappointin them by not lettin you go. But they disappointed me by doing it. It’s like you were never there. Business as fucking usual. If I don’t cling on to you, you’ll be fucking gone. Every night my hurt scars over and every mornin it’s ripped open. I’m like the most pathetic Greek myth.

Christ. When did I start fucking crying.

… I guess I’d better go. I feel… Oddly better, I guess. Just getting it out there. I know ya can’t hear me, I know no one heard me. But still. ‘s nice that it’s out. And I can lie t’myself and think you love me too. That might be nice. Maybe I won’t have nightmares tonight.

I’ll uh… I’ll bring you flowers next time, shall I? Think I’m the only one who comes to visit you, by the look of things. Merlin I guess is too busy or scared. And you really didn’t know no one else, did you… Yeah. I’ll bring flowers. And maybe one of those butterflies of yours you collected. God knows I don’t need ‘em. Maybe you’d like that. Flowers and Butterflies at your fucking grave. You’re full of surprises.

Maybe I’ll do it on Valentine’s day. I obviously never got to thank you for what you did. Cause’a you, we took down Arthur, figured out where his base was, and stopped him. Because’a you, the world got saved. You’re a hero. My hero. Valentine’s Day is your day, to me. So I’ll bring you some flowers.

…. I’ll go. And Harry… I miss you. Fucking miss you. And I love you. … Feels weird to actually say it. I love you. I’ll say it as often as I can, though. … I miss you every day…

… Bye, Harry. See you next week.

**Author's Note:**

> Come fight me at thedarkbunnyrises on tumblr.


End file.
